Deadly Sky (ePub), The (11 page)

The long skinny island – the reef, almost – with the airport lay ahead, coconut palms stirring in the warm breeze. Darryl turned to gaze at Mangareva, the rocky crest of Mount Duff against a glowing blue sky. He pictured the beaches, the groves of trees, the smiles and songs. It's such a special place, he told himself again. When he was older, he'd like to do work like his mum was doing now, helping people from places like this.

Dark outlines of small reefs showed beneath blue-green water as the boat purred on. Darryl remembered the other reef, by the lodge. ‘You are our guest,' Alicia had told him; she'd seemed so different that day. He glanced at her now: she sat staring over the side of
the boat. She'd stopped crying, but she gripped her handkerchief in one hand. How come girls always had a clean handkerchief?

Raoul was on the opposite side, also gazing across the calm water, not looking at Alicia. The young man's expression was grim: his lips pressed together. I wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of him, Darryl decided.

The little boat throttled back. They'd almost reached the other jetty. On the runway between the trees, their plane stood waiting.

They boarded immediately. Their cases were carried away; Alicia clutched her satchel as though she was afraid someone might take that, too.

It was the same slim plane that had brought them here. The same type, anyway. This time, a curly-haired woman in a dark green uniform stood at the bottom of the steps, greeting each passenger in French and English.

Darryl's mother was just in front of him, next to Alicia. The girl was shaking, he realised. Hell, she shouldn't be flying if she was that bad. Mrs Davis murmured to her, patting her shoulder. Alicia wheeled around and stared past Darryl, dark eyes stretched
wide. She looked as though she was going to run.

A voice spoke, a couple of places behind him. Raoul, talking in Mangarevan, fast and tight-sounding. Alicia's shoulders drooped; she turned and began climbing the steps, head down. About time her cousin did something, Darryl thought. He wasn't going to sit anywhere near Alicia, if he could help it. If she got hysterical, somebody else could handle it.

He mounted the steps. Two uniformed figures – the same pilots as last time? he couldn't tell – were busy with switches and dials in the cockpit. The flight looked as though it would be only half-full.

He and his mother were together, about halfway down the aisle. Alicia was one row in front. She didn't seem to be shaking now: she sat utterly still, looking straight ahead. A few tendrils of dark hair curled on her neck. Raoul was sitting somewhere down the back; he'd stalked past without looking at any of them, face still set.

The passengers were all aboard. The air hostess spoke briefly to the pilots, then nodded to someone outside and swung the cabin door shut. The bright sunlight dimmed. Through his window, Darryl glimpsed the steps being wheeled away. Goodbye, Mangareva.

The announcements in their two languages were the same as the time before, except the other way around. Well, Darryl thought,
I
know what I mean. ‘Welcome … Tahitian Airlines … Flight 766 to Papeete … Your pilot is Someone Different From Last Time … Your co-pilot is Someone Different Too … Your air hostess is Françoise.'

The voice crackled on. ‘Flight time today is a little under six hours … tail wind … Today we will not have any sinking boats, we hope.' The passengers murmured.

‘We were glad to help yesterday,' the voice said, then continued in French. Darryl peered out the window, trying to remember every detail he could. The palms, the glitter of waves, the slow procession of a few white clouds across the sky.

He snapped back to listening. ‘As you probably know, a nuclear test takes place today at Mururoa, at midday. There will be no difficulty. We will have reached halfway to Papeete by them. We are well outside the exclusion zone. We may see a slight flash, that is all.' Ahead of him, Alicia twisted around in her seat. She was staring towards the rear of the plane. At Raoul? Darryl couldn't tell. Her face twitched as though she was about to cry again.

His mother reached a hand forward, rested it on the girl's shoulder, murmuring once more to her. Alicia seemed not to hear; she kept staring past them for a
few more moments, then turned to face the front again, her back rigid. So, she was scared of the test as well as the plane? I'm glad it's not a longer flight, Darryl told himself. With her on board, I'd be worn out.

The engines growled. The plane trembled, then began to roll forward. Through the window, the coconut palms started flicking past. This time tomorrow, we'll be home, Darryl told himself again.

His mother smiled at him. He smiled back.

The runway flashed beneath them. The nose of the plane lifted, and he was pressed back in his seat as they rose from the ground. The holiday, the adventure, would soon be over.

The engines kept roaring. Darryl could feel their vibration. Excitement welled up in him once more: yeah, it
had
been an adventure. He understood now why his dad had wanted to take off and see a totally different place. The world was full of adventures, and
he
was going to have as many as he could in his life.

He was going to help people, too. Being with his mum over here had made him realise how good that could feel. She was still helping, with Alicia as well as the kids who might be coming to New Zealand.

Darryl glanced forward. In the row ahead, the girl sat motionless. Was she still frightened and upset? He couldn't tell.

Another five minutes and the plane began to level out. The seatbelt sign blinked off. The air hostess began moving down the cabin, chatting to people. She rested a hand on Alicia's shoulder, smiled and murmured to her for a moment. The girl must still be scared, all right. Maybe he'd go and sit by her; tell her it was OK. Or maybe he'd just tell his mum, and she could go.

The air hostess reached their row.

‘'Allo. Is there anytheeng you need?'

Mrs Davis smiled and shook her head. Darryl began to do the same, then asked: ‘Can I move across to the other side?'

The air hostess raised her eyebrows. ‘You do not enjoy to sit with your mother?'

Darryl shook his head, and started saying ‘No, I just want to see out—', then realised both women were grinning at him. If he ever became (yerrrk) a parent, he was
not
going to embarrass his kids the way certain people did.

Darryl stood, and began moving across the aisle to the empty seats opposite. He noticed Raoul, sitting by himself three rows back, gazing straight ahead. His eyes were narrowed, his lips pressed together. He stared straight past Darryl for a moment, then seemed
to recognise him, and gave a nod. Man, he's a real barrel of laughs, Darryl thought.

Outside, a great curve of blue sky swept down to meet a deep green ocean. The whole world glowed. Darryl remembered the photograph taken by the first astronauts to walk on the moon, the one showing Earth floating blue and white and perfect against the blackness of space, with its pale skin of atmosphere surrounding it. Nuclear explosions could damage that atmosphere, his book said, and let in deadly gamma rays. Scary.

He stared towards the horizon. Their flight path took them hundreds of miles out to the west of Mururoa. The pilot had said the test was at midday. He checked his watch: 9.05. Yeah, they'd be halfway to Tahiti by then. Oh, well.

He settled back in his seat and gazed out the window again. Light. Clean, shining light, all through the sky and across the ocean below.

Darryl pictured that TV documentary: the colossal explosion ripping upwards from under the sea, the great tsunami of water tearing outwards to destroy the warships moored around. He remembered the canoes he'd seen gliding across the water at Mangareva, canoes like the one Noah and the others had given him and his mum. He thought of them smashed to pieces, the people on board hurled to their deaths as the sky blazed
and burned. A thing like that mustn't be allowed to happen. It mustn't.

Oh no, he realised. Oh no, I'm actually agreeing with Alicia!

Darryl sat there, trying to believe it: he'd left home feeling one way; now he was going back feeling completely the opposite. Incredible.

Finally, he took out his book, opened it. Takahiro was a ten-year-old boy in Nagasaki, on 9 August 1945. It was three days after Hiroshima, and he'd been swimming with friends near a wharf, seeing how deep they could dive. Takahiro had plunged down and nearly touched the bottom, when up above him the sky flashed ‘as bright as a thousand suns'. He kicked his way back to the surface, and burst out into the air, to find his friends screaming, blinded, their hair burned from their heads. He staggered through a city on fire, where people lay in blackened, twisted shapes, past where a woman hunched wailing over a dead baby, skin peeling from both of their bodies. The sky was dark; strange heavy raindrops fell, leaving black stains on his skin. When he finally found his street, his house was gone, smeared out of existence. Only a few charred bits of timber remained; the ground was fused and cracked
like glass. He never saw his parents or sister again. After three days, Takahiro himself began to vomit; sores appeared on his body; his mouth and eyes filled with ulcers. Radiation sickness. He died when he was twelve.

No, it mustn't be allowed to happen again. Ever.

It was 10.17. The sky was paler. A thin veil of cloud spread above. His mother sat reading her notes. Alicia's head was bent. She was reading, too? Praying? Maybe she felt better now that she realised the plane wasn't going to drop out of the sky. Darryl gazed around. The other passengers were dozing or slowly turning pages.

The air hostess, Françoise, was coming down the aisle with a tray of tall glasses. A pineapple drink? He'd better have one – or two – while he still could.

Someone moved past him. Raoul, heading for the front of the cabin. He took no notice of Darryl or his mother, and began talking to Françoise. The air hostess's polite smile faded. Then she nodded, and set off towards the cockpit, Raoul behind her. She knocked, opened the door, and started talking to those inside. The young man stood silently, hands by his sides. Françoise turned, nodded to him again, and he disappeared through the door.

Must be going to do more training, Darryl decided. Nah, he hasn't got his uniform on. Maybe he just wants to watch.

Come on, he urged the air hostess. I'm thirsty. 10.30: they'd been flying for an hour and a half. About four hours to go.

Françoise was talking to Alicia, offering her one of the drinks. She spoke again as the girl jerkily shook her head, looked concerned, then put the drink back on the tray. Alicia must still be frightened. Yeah, he'd go and talk to her, as soon as he'd got his drink.

The air hostess straightened up and moved on. Behind her, the cockpit door opened, and Raoul emerged. He stood there, looking down the rows of seats.

At the same moment, Alicia rose. She turned to step into the aisle. Darryl saw her face, and felt his breath catch. Her eyes stared; her mouth trembled. She was terrified. In her hands she clutched the brown bag. She wasn't going to be sick in it, was she?

Raoul hadn't moved. He's waiting for her, Darryl realised. What was going on?

The girl had reached the aisle. She stood there, one hand gripping the back of a seat. She seemed unable to move. Raoul spoke to her, a couple of words, harsh and angry. She jerked, then stumbled forward.

From back down the aisle, Françoise was calling, asking something. The other passengers craned their
necks, trying to see what was happening.

Words began pouring from Alicia, high, shrill, frightened. She reached Raoul; he stretched out an arm to hold her, comfort her.

No, it wasn't for comfort. The young man seized the brown bag, shoved his hand into it. He was talking, too, loud and fast, over-riding Alicia, shaking his head at her. He yanked something out of the bag, thrust it into the girl's hand. She tried to push it away, crying ‘
Non! Non!
' Raoul shook her, hissed more words at her. In the cockpit, one of the pilots had turned to watch.

Darryl was on his feet. His mother began to stand as well. Françoise, still holding the part-empty tray of drinks, was coming back up the aisle.

At the same moment, the two figures at the front turned. Alicia faced the cabin; Raoul took a stride back into the cockpit. Both of them held guns.